The Castle Within
by Shimy
Summary: "Kate let her gaze rest a little while longer on the old stick-on label which had turned yellowish with time and yet still clearly indicated to whom the object she was holding in her hands belonged. Richard Alexander Rodgers." All in all, a story that was born out of this question: why did Castle pick the name 'Castle? Rated T for safety.


**Author's note: **Hey everyone! Huh, for those who know me, it's been a rather long time since I last wrote something...But after watching the finale for the fifth season of _Castle_, I felt like writing again. So, here is my first fic for this fandom.

For the purpose of this story, set after season 5, I consider that the whole "Job in DC" issue has been resolved one way or another (Kate refused and stayed in New-York/Kate accepted and then realized she'd made a mistake and came back to New-York, I'll let you choose) as well the proposal issue. Again, you can just choose what Kate replied ("Yes" / "Yes, but not right now" / "No, but ask me again in a couple of months"). Yes, the only thing I'm ruling out is a definite "No".

Anyway, I must warn you that English is my third language and although I dare say that my level of English is not bad, it'd be nice of you to keep that particular aspect in mind while you read. There's more info on my profile if you actually want to know more about this - but I'm certainly not expecting you to.

This story will always be updated in French first, and since they have the same title, don't be confused.

This idea has been in my head for a little while, and I really hope that one day Andrew Marlowe will adress it (in a way better way that I could ever hope to do, of course).

Constructive criticism is welcome, flaming is not.

Well, that's about it, I think. Hope you enjoy your reading!** :)  
**

Oh, right. I obviously don't own _Castle_**. ;)**

* * *

_**Do bring on the clowns,  
They are funny, funny, so funny !  
Listen to the children's laughter  
As they watch the clowns' painted faces.  
They scream with delight  
As the clowns fall about.**_

_**Tricks, tricks and more tricks,  
Pranks, smoke and bangs,  
Hurrah for the clowns!**_

_**They are wonderful.  
They are magnificent.**_

_**Just tell me this:**_

_**Who will console the clowns?**_

* * *

**The Castle Within  
**

* * *

Detective Kate Beckett couldn't help the frustrated sigh that left her lips.  
It was late, she was tired, her coffee mug had been empty for a long time now and since Castle was not at the precinct, nobody had kept her supplied for several hours.

For the umpteenth time that day, Kate took a sad look at the empty chair that occupied a place of honor beside her desk. She had now reached the point where she didn't even bother _trying_ to hide the fact that she missed Castle.

Two days ago, while she and Castle had been enjoying a rather copious breakfast together before the time came for Rick to leave for San Francisco for a couple of days to promote the release of _Deadly Heat_, she had been informed there'd been a body drop and she'd had to leave in a hurry – not without having quickly kissed her companion and promised him she would call as soon as she could, of course – to get to the crime scene.

The victim was Martin Hughes, a rather well-known bailiff and a man whom not a lot of people would cry over, since getting one his infamous visits was often synonymous of seizure.  
Mr. Hughes' lifeless body, which had been perforated by several bullets of big caliber, had been found in a dumpster not too far off from where he used to live.  
It was the dustmen who'd made the call around seven o'clock that morning.

Even though the murder weapon was yet to be found, ballistic had made it clear it was probably an assault rifle.  
The fingerprints that had been found on the corpse, however, had directly led Kate on the track to Kirk Terence, a man in his fifties who also happened to own a gunsmith's. For the time being, the man categorically stated he had nothing to do with this case.  
However, when it had come to the surface that Kirk Terence's gunsmith's was on the verge of going bankrupt _and _that the bailiff who had been given the responsibility of carrying out this business was no other than Martin Hughes, well, one clue just led to another and all of them pointed in the same direction.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what must have happened.

Kate was one hundred per cent sure that Kirk Terence was guilty - she could feel it in her gut, and she trusted her gut. Her gut was reliable. Well, most of the time. But in order for the man to make a confession, she still needed a crucial element to corroborate what was nothing more at the moment than a very plausible theory: she needed a witness. And an eye-witness would be best, if that wasn't too much to hope for.

For up until now, no witnesses had made themselves known at all.

That was the main problem with this case: nobody had either seen or heard anything.  
And given the fact that Martin Hughes was not exactly loved by the people he dealt with, there was much to bet that any witness there may have been just chose to keep silent and raise a glass to the day the bailiff died.

And to crown it all, Castle wasn't there to help her.

"Yo, Beckett! Maybe we got something!"

Esposito's voice roused her from her thoughts and she straightened herself on her chair to watch as her two acolytes strode towards her, a matching smile on their faces. She silently rose one eyebrow to signify them they had her undivided attention.

"Ryan and I interrogated the people who live around the crime scene. Most of them had nothing to say but –

"We did learn one thing," Ryan interrupted. "A kid told us he went to the circus with his parents the night of the murder."

"So? You think our killer took care of Hughes and then went there to enjoy the show himself?"

"Nah – although, now that you mention it –

"Hey, Castle Junior, you done yet?"

"I'm going to ignore that. _Anyway_, it seems the big top was located only a dozen of meters away from our crime scene so –

"So maybe the performers saw something." Beckett finished, invigorated at the prospect of maybe, finally having a witness. "Did you go and see them?"

Both detectives looked at one another, seemingly embarrassed.

"Er…no. Well, not yet, that is."

She frowned. They flinched.

"Hey, it's not like it's our fault! We wanted to go and see them but –

"The big top wasn't even there anymore."

"Yeah. Apparently the circus went away two days ago, at the break of dawn, way before the dumpsters made the call. The kid's parents said the show ended around half past twelve a.m."

Beckett sighed and began massaging her temples in frustration.

"Great. Just great! Okay…we know Hughes was shot around one a.m. so the circus was obviously still there. They couldn't have packed up all their stuff again and leave in less than thirty minutes. Did you _at least_ get the circus' name?"

"Yeah. Kid called it 'The Small Apple Circus'."

Kate couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her throat.

"You're pulling my leg."

Esposito beamed at her. "Nope. Bet Castle would have loved that!"

"Oh, without a doubt. Okay guys, I'm gonna head home, grab something to eat and get a couple hours of sleep. In the meantime, find me where the hell that circus went and let me know when you get the big top's new address."

"On it. Oh, and Beckett?"

"Yeah?"

"Kid also said he freaking _loved_ the tigers!"

"Ha ha, very funny!"

* * *

Upon arriving at the loft, Kate had only one thing in mind: swallow up some reheated food to quiet her hungry stomach and then crash into bed to savor some precious and much-needed sleep.

She firmly intended to do just that even though it had become harder for her to fall asleep when Castle wasn't by her side.

But when she saw Alexis and Martha sitting on the couch and laughing together about something she could not see, Kate smiled and let her curiosity outweigh her fatigue and hunger.

"Hey, Martha. Alexis, good to see you here."

"Oh, hello, Katherine! Dear God, you look absolutely exhausted!"

"Ugh, please don't remind me."

" Hey Kate, come quick," Alexis happily chimed in, waving what seemed to be a worn-out copybook. "You gotta see this!"

"What is it?" Kate asked whilst getting rid of her coat and heels, her feet silently joining in a prayer as she did so. Then she quickly made her way to the couch and blissfully sat down, unsure whether she would actually manage to get up ever again.

"These are some of Dad's former school copybooks! You know, when he was in second grade or so! Gram found them while sorting things out."

Kate instantly felt a fresh wave of giddy excitement wash over her and her smile quickly morphed into a mischievous grin. Castle's former copybooks, from back when he was still a child? This was too good an opportunity to pass up! And it certainly deserved sacrificing just a little bit of sleep.

In the end, what should have only lasted a dozen of minutes eventually turned into a full hour of smiles and laughter while the three women gazed at the doodles and side notes which were scattered all over the pages of Martha's son's old copybooks, no matter what their respective subjects were. Be it English, mathematics, geography or history, all of them were full of small treasures.

Kate tenderly smiled to herself when her fingertips grazed the fine, careful and delicate handwriting Castle had already mastered at the age of seven. Coming to think of it, it hadn't changed much since then.

It was only when she closed the copybook dedicated to the stories which had been read and studied in class that Kate let her gaze rest a little while longer on the old stick-on label which had turned yellowish with time and yet still clearly indicated to whom the object she was holding in her hands belonged.

_Richard Alexander Rodgers._

The detective observed that name for a little while. She also took the time to remember the words Penny Marchand had told her several years ago.

"_You will meet an Alexander and he will be extremely important to you. At some future date, he may save your life."_

Kate smiled again, as if she were approving the words Vivien's daughter had spoken. Then, without her being able to prevent herself from doing so, she gently caressed what used to be her friend, partner and lover's last name.

_Rodgers._

"Kate? What are you thinking about?"

Martha was observing her carefully, and there was a glow in her eyes that Kate couldn't quite put her finger on.

Sensing the change of mood and feeling that the conversation which was about to occur was none of her business, Alexis quickly jumped to her feet and pecked both older women on the cheek before wishing them a good night and heading for her room up the stairs.

Without thinking, Kate threaded one of her hands through her hair and let an almost inaudible sigh.

"I was just wondering why Rick changed his last name."

Martha simply shrugged her shoulders, as if this were nothing but an insignificant detail amongst others.

"Numerous authors choose to go by another name. This isn't something new, and it certainly isn't a rare occurrence."

"No, of course not, but…What I mean is, why 'Castle'? Out of all the names he could have picked, why did he set his heart on this one?"

Silence fell, heavy and uncomfortable. The red-headed woman observed the detective whom her son loved so much for a moment, all the while being careful to keep an unreadable expression on her face. And then, slowly but surely, a strange smiled started creeping on the actress' lips.  
Suddenly, she appeared as though she had aged ten more years in the space of a few seconds. And when Kate's eyes found Martha's, she was able to read several conflicting emotions in them. She could see tenderness and comprehension but she could also see – and that was far more disturbing – sadness and regret.

"Tell me, Katherine. Why do you think this is of any importance?"

Kate felt anger and indignation surge through her at once but she quickly acted on it and pushed her incoming outburst at bay for she knew nothing good would come from taking it out on the woman who sat before her.

"Because it does matter! Names matter, Martha! We don't pick names by chance, do we? And certainly not when we choose names for ourselves! Names…they give us an identity. They define us in comparison with those who live around us. The name we bear is the sheer piece of evidence that we _exist_. If we didn't have names, we wouldn't be anything but…"

"We wouldn't be anything but…?" Martha repeated, hoping to get Kate to say what was on her mind.

"I don't know. We wouldn't be anything but mere… _creatures_?"

The hearty chuckle that Martha let out surprised Kate more than she cared to admit.

"Why, Detective Beckett, have you been rereading Mary Shelley's _Frankenstein _by any chance?"

Kate smiled in spite of herself, appreciating the effort Martha made to lighten their conversation, not unlike Castle often did.  
As soon as that thought crossed her mind, though, the temporary lightness that had settled in the room vanished in thin air, leaving nothing but a bitter atmosphere in its place.

Kate lowered her head, feeling her throat tighten under the force of what she was about to say.

"I would just like to know why Rick picked that name in particular. Why this one and not another? I would like to know…who he is."

"What are you saying, Kate?"

"I'm saying that, sometimes, I feel like I don't know much about him. Hell, I practically know nothing about the child and teenager Richard Rodgers was before he became Rick Castle. I love him, Martha. Really, I do. And I want to fight for him. For us. I – I just would like him to open up to me just a little bit more. And I know that coming from me, this must seem like the pot calling the kettle black but it's true."

Kate didn't really know what kind of reaction she expected from the older woman, but it turned out to be quite simple. Martha automatically reached for Kate's hand and them in her own – an instinctive maternal gesture, or so it seemed – and forced the detective to look her in the eye.

"Oh, Kate, darling. I know you love him. But can you really blame him for something that you've done yourself? Something that you _still _do yourself? He has spent more than five years trying to tear down those walls of yours brick by brick. And he still hasn't completely succeeded in doing so, if the way you behaved when you got that offer for the job in DC is any indication."

Kate obviously stiffened upon hearing those words, ready to fight tooth and nail for herself and the way she'd behaved then (even though her mind told her it was already a lost battle) but Martha immediately prevented her from doing so.

"No, Katherine, listen to me. What I am trying to tell you is that the questions you are asking yourself are legitimate – yes, you heard me correctly. They are legitimate and fair and they need to be asked indeed. But not to me. He is the one who has to answer them. And you are the one who has to utter them, Kate. You cannot expect him to just hand all answers to you on a plate – although, mind you, he would probably do that anyway – without having deserved them first. Now, do you understand what I am saying?"

Kate slowly nodded in utter silence. Martha's voice grew even softer upon seeing that the younger woman's eyes were suspiciously shining.

"Richard and you are not so different from one another, did you know that? And you _are _a very smart woman, Katherine Beckett. You'll find the answers you're looking for. He'll give them to you. But you will have to be patient. After all," Martha firmly stated whilst raising herself to her feet and waving her hands in her trademark dramatic fashion, "Rome wasn't built in a day!"

"That is true. Thanks a ton, Martha, it helped to talk about it."

"Pshh, anytime, darling! I am always glad to see I can still be of _some_ use around this place!"

Kate laughed softly before getting up herself and starting to make her way to the master bedroom. Before she could enter it, though, Martha's voice resonated once more in her ears.

"By the way, Kate, how would you define a castle?"

"I'm sorry?"

To say that Kate was taken aback by Martha's unexpected question would be an understatement.

"You heard me the first time. How would you define the word 'castle'?"

The detective took a second to gather her thoughts and formulate an appropriate response.

"I'd say a castle is a fortress. An imposing building which purpose is, on the one hand, to protect those who live within its walls and, on the other hand, to prevent those who are not allowed there from invading it."

Silence fell once more, and Kate's eyes widened while her lips parted in a noiseless 'o' upon realizing exactly what she'd just said.

Martha nodded from afar, visibly pleased with herself.

"Well, Detective Beckett, I'd say you have found the beginning of an answer to one of yours questions. And now, let me bid you a good night."

* * *

Kate had just slipped under the comforter, her mind still slightly jumbled from everything Martha had made her understand, when her cell phone both buzzed and ringed briefly, signaling she'd just got a text.

She prayed all Gods and Goddesses in the universe for the message not to come from Ryan or Esposito.

Apparently, she'd been heard.

"_Hey. Just wanted to know how you were. I miss you. Rick."_

Butterflies settled pleasantly in her stomach and she smiled softly, quickly typing a response.

"_Hey. I was just about to go to sleep. I'll call you tomorrow to tell you about our last case. You're gonna love it. I miss you too. KB."_

After having put her phone back onto the bedside table, Kate reached for Castle's pillow instead of her own and eventually let her eyelids drop as she drifted off to sleep.


End file.
